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snake-in-the-garden · 3 years

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Chapter 3 is up!!!

Chapter 3: Welcome Wagon

Summary: Ramona reads John for filth.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Ramona Belmont

Rating: M (for now)

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Cursing, unentertaining portrayal of John, unfunny banter

A/N: Why in the world did I leave the last chapter off on a cliff hanger? We all know who it was. Don't worry, Rosa will be fixed. Thank you for reading!!!

Read it here or on Ao3

The man who stalked in was slim and well-dressed with perfectly coiffed dark-colored hair and beard. Aside from the expensive looking watch and belt buckle; the plethora of tattoos cascading his exposed forearms is what caught Ramona's eyes the most. From what Mary May implicated and the nasty stares from onlookers, this flashy man was probably a part of the infamous Eden's Gate. Whatever that was.

"You don't usually bother us at this time, John," Mary May pointed out curtly, while tending to another customer. "What's the occasion? Though I can probably guess why."

"I heard a new face would be arriving here in Hope County and I wanted to come here to greet her myself", the man, now named John, explained as his blue gaze fell onto Ramona. "And I'm glad I made the trip."

Ramona's body went rigid as their eyes locked. There was something about the way John looked at her that made her uneasy. It was like he was studying her. Expecting her to address him warmly and eagerly as if they were good friends. Ramona wasn't going to do that. She only wanted information. "Am I really so special that you practically had to hunt me down?" Ramona suddenly jested, forcing her limbs to relax. John smiled and sat on the barstool that was on the side of her which was opposite to Sharky's position. He grimaced and turned himself away from the two. Mary May shared in Sharky's sentiment. "In a way", John wrung his hands, bringing more of Ramona's attention to his inked fingers. "I've always found people who refuse help when it's offered to them absolutely fascinating."

Ramona opened her mouth to respond only for no words to come out. Which was probably a good thing because she'd just stumble over her words at such a claim. She took a breath. "And what's so 'fascinating' about that, if I may ask?", Ramona lightly pressed, sitting up straighter. "Well, most people would love to be aided by such good samaritans when they first arrive at a new place", John began, "but you, my dear, rejected the opportunity of something great due to the influence of..." John was gesturing to Sharky who was still behind Ramona, nursing a beer Mary May served him a minute ago and overhearing the two's conversation.

"You talkin' 'bout me?", Sharky challenged.

"Well you are the one who interfered with my men's work", John replied with a hint of contempt.

"Just makin' sure no one else gets swallowed up in your fuckin' cult!"

"Cult?" Ramona reminded the two men she was still in the middle of them.

"Eden's Gate is not a 'cult'. It's a loving, supportive community, saving poor souls from the wretches of this horrid world."

Certain words of John's spiel had some sort of bite to them. A bite which seemed like it was only for Ramona to feel at that moment. "So does 'saving poor souls' also mean buying their homes too?", she asked, remembering Sharky's claim from earlier. John turned his attention back towards Ramona."The property we acquire aids the Project greatly. They function as storage for supplies and housing for our faithful members," he reached out to lay his hand on top of her hand. Her blood went cold. "You know, my dear, I'd be more than happy to show you our operations and discuss--." Ramona gently took back her hand before John could finish his sentence. "Sorry, but no thanks," she declined. "Besides, I still have my car to worry about."

"Well if you would have let my men take proper care of your situation, you'd be at your destination instead of...here", John chastised.

"She doesn't wanna join you creeps", Sharky interjected once again before Ramona could say anything else.

"Excuse me, dear, does this one speak for you?" John asked. "Surely you can't let him make all your decisions."

That was the last straw for Ramona. "No. He doesn't," she assured, already fed up with John leering and touching her. Him just assuming that she doesn't have a mind of her own tipped her over the edge. Plus this possible cult stuff didn't sound good to her either. "Besides, I don't think I would like joining a group who can't take 'no' for an answer." The way Ramona emphasized the 'no' must have struck a nerve for John as he suddenly stood up from his stool. The award-winning smile disappeared from his face as his glare turned cold.

"You shouldn't be so hasty, dear--."

"Well you shouldn't be so quick to call women you don't know 'dear'. That's not my name!"

"You never gave it."

"You never asked for it."

John's nostrils flared and his fist was clenched.

Before anymore banter could be exchanged between them, Mary May clapped her hands a few times bringing their attention onto herself. "Alright, as entertainin' as this is, John I'm gonna need you to leave," she informed. John's demeanor and tone changed again. "Please Miss. Fairgrave. If you'd just give me ten more minutes, I can convince our guest to at least--." The blonde held up her hand to John's face and tutted. "Ah ah, I only let you in here to see how this spitfire would handle you pushin' your cult shit. Now leave before I call the Sheriff, Seed." So that was his last name. Ramona heard Sharky trying to stifle a laugh when he saw how disgruntled John was by how the two women spoke to him. Like any other pushy guy Ramona has dealt with in the past, John quickly made his way to the bar's exit.

Before officially leaving, John looked to Ramona one last time to say something especially chilling and somewhat threatening. "You know, it's not too late for you to be saved before the Collapse is upon us." She doesn't respond. "Hopefully you'll see the light soon enough." Ramona didn't have time to process something so cryptic due to Sharky waving him off by exclaiming, "yeah, yeah. Don't let the door hit ya on your nonexistent ass on your way out." That earned an uproarious laughter from the onlooking patrons and Ramona who covered hers with a cough.

And with that, John finally left at a quicken pace. Despite the glee everyone else in the bar was experiencing at the moment, Ramona couldn't shake the feeling that she made a mistake having a hand in humiliating John like that. Especially since she was advised not to mess with Eden's Gate. Though this "Collapse" business seems like something worth looking into later.

"You literally just got here and you're already fittin' in," Mary May beamed while passing a Shirley Temple to her. "On the house. I figured this might be to your liking."

Ramona felt warm while she accepted the cool drink. "Thank you." She turned to Sharky. "Now about my car."

#far cry 5 #fc5 #oc: ramona belmont #sharky boshaw #mary may fairgrave #john seed #x: we've touched on sorrowful days #fic: a stranger's sacrifice #chapter 3 #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry 5 fanfic #fc5 fanfiction #fc5 fanfic #fanfiction #sharky boshaw x oc #sharky boshaw x female oc #farcry 5 #serpent fics #friends to lovers

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ma-sulevin · 4 years

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Mattie’s made it to the Henbane! You know what that means?

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E, but mostly for swearing Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 5939, chapter three of twelve

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

It wasn’t so bad at the marina, but the deeper into the Henbane they get, the more Mattie feels like she’s been smacked right in the sinuses with like a bat or a metal pipe or something. The pollen from the fucking fields of fucking bliss is so pervasive that she sneezes once every ten minutes on the dot, more than once alerting a nearby peggie to her hiding spot.

She just wants to pop three Benadryl and take an eighteen-hour nap. Maybe that would help.

Hurk and Boomer stay with her, neither of them particularly bothered by the clouds of icky greenish pollen floating in the wind, sticking with her through all the snot and the sneezing. Hurk is a constant source of chatter, which could be annoying but is actually pretty nice when the alternative is sitting in her own head worrying about everything that’s going on.

Joey. Staci. Earl. Burke. She hasn’t died again, and now she’s not sure those times weren’t bliss hallucinations. If they were -- could they happen again? Is she going to wake up in a hospital in Missoula strapped to the bed as a 10-96, her reputation in Hope County ruined?

Listening to Hurk’s (made up, she assumes) tales of the Monkey God and Kyrat is a much nicer way to spend her time. It’s good for a laugh, at least. The man is a little scattered, but he’s a natural storyteller under all that.

Mattie keeps an eye out for rogue peggie helicopters, but getting Tulip back for Adelaide isn’t her top priority by any stretch of the imagination. If she’s meant to find it, she’ll find it, and she’s not going to waste time and energy driving around until she stumbles across the right vehicle. There are real lives on the line she needs to take care of first.

A couple days after they leave the marina, Mattie’s radio comes to life once more with a request for help that has Hurk cheering before she can really parse out the message.

“Hell yeah, Sharky here--” (excited whooping) “--brain-dead cultists at the trailer park.”

“That’s my baby cousin!” Hurk says, somehow fucking bouncing even with that RPG cradled in his arms like a thirty-pound infant. “He’s at the Moonflower, let’s go get him!” He pins her in place with a hopeful look that she assumes he perfected on his mother -- and then sighs because it works.

She knows Sharky by reputation, even if she’s never personally arrested him before. She’s heard Staci and Joey talk about him, and she’s seen his wanted poster still up by the Spread Eagle even though he’s not actually wanted and is out on probation, probably.

“Okay, fine.” She makes a shooing motion at him and he sets off at a jog, heading up the mountain at a pace she knows he’ll be tired of in just a few minutes. She follows anyway, more sedately, along with Boomer, and they catch up with Hurk soon enough.

About halfway up, they find a car abandoned on the side of the dirt road. There’s blood smeared on the front passenger seat and on the door, and Hurk happily climbs in the back with Boomer, leaving Mattie to climb in the relatively clean driver’s seat.

The rest of the way to the trailer park is peaceful, no cultists or bliss fields, and Hurk barely snickers when she sneezes hard and accidentally jerks the wheel to the right and runs them through the grass for a bit.

Okay, next time they come across a gas station or a truck stop or a corner store or just a regular old house that hasn’t been ransacked: she’s dosing up on Claritin. This shit is getting old.

“This used to be a real nice trailer park,” Hurk comments, leaning forward in his seat to speak almost directly into her ear. She parks the borrowed vehicle a safe distance away from another one that’s already on fire, and they both watch as something inside the fence explodes. “Not so much anymore.”

She snorts, then coughs into her elbow. “Apparently not. Let’s go.”

They climb out and Boomer runs ahead, nose to the ground and tail wagging. There don’t seem to be any cultists hanging around right now, so she keeps her weapons safely holstered even though Hurk doesn’t bother with the same courtesy, just waves with one hand when he sees a man standing on top of one of the trailers.

Mattie casts a critical eye around the place as they climb up one of the ladders to walk across the makeshift platforms. Obviously this used to be a pretty standard trailer park, small but with a cute little playground in the middle for the kids. There are no cars sitting around other than hers and the one that was on fire, and the only bodies she can see are wearing Eden’s Gate clothes. Most of the residents must have joined up with the cult or turned tail before Sharky took over.

When they get close enough, they can see Sharky is holding a flame thrower which, okay, it’s technically legal, but it still makes Mattie frown to see him with one, and apparently that frown makes her look too much like a law enforcement officer, because Sharky takes a whole step back and yells, “You’ll never take me alive!”

Mattie just stares at him. Sharky stares right back.

Hurk laughs. “Man, we ain’t here to arrest you. You think I’d bring the cops to a barbeque like this? The dep’s cool, man.”

Sharky looks her up and down and then cocks his head to the side. “ ...oh, you’re not here to arrest me?” When she shakes her head, still frowning a bit, he shrugs and seems to accept her at her word. “Cool, sorry. I am Victor Charlemagne Boshaw, but--”

She listens as he launches into his speech about who he is and what they’re going to be doing over the next few minutes, and she knows it’s a terrible idea, and it must just be whatever genetics Hurk and Sharky share beyond frankly ridiculous names, but his enthusiasm is infectious and she finds herself agreeing to help him even though she shouldn’t.

The people he’s luring in need help. They need to be taken away from the Seeds’ influence and given to someone who can de-condition them, whatever that looks like. She doesn’t know how this stuff works -- it wasn’t covered in school or in the training she got from the Sheriff’s Department.

Her mind changes when she finally sees an Angel up close. Its eyes are completely white, unseeing but not in the way someone who’s simply lost vision would look. There’s a green shimmer to them, and standing too close makes her head spin around like she’s wandered too close to a bliss field again. They fight with inhuman strength, giving more of themselves over to the trouble than any human in their right mind would, and they shake off injuries that would bring down a normal person.

They’re fucking zombies. She nearly gets bit by one, saved only by the stained white mask covering its face, and it grunts and growls and then screams when she puts a bullet between its eyes. The sound makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, a shiver go down her spine.

What the fuck has Faith been doing to them?

What the fuck.

After the last Angel is put down and the last cognizant cultist is also put down, and Sharky’s speakers are all disconnected from his stereo, and Mattie is done celebrating the fact that she managed to not fucking die this time , Hurk and Sharky jog up to where she’s sitting on the playground steps reloading her rifle. They’re both keyed up, excited after the battle and running on adrenaline, but she’s just tired now.

She keeps saying it, but she’s so goddamn tired.

The first thing out of Sharky’s mouth is, “That was fuckin’ hot and uhhh not just cause of the fire.” She freezes, her rifle across her knees, the magazine in one hand and a few loose bullets in the other. Hurk is grinning at him, the beginnings of a laugh starting to bubble up, and Sharky immediately turns red and starts talking faster. “I mean, that didn’t help, but. I mean. Anyway. You did good, shorty, and if you want me to join up with you and Hurky, just say the word.”

Mattie clears her throat and goes back to putting the bullets back in the magazine. The smoke and gasoline fumes are mixing with her already irritated sinuses to give her a headache, and she has to pause to sneeze into her elbow again before she comes up with an answer.

“Sharky? If you burn down every field of bliss we come across, you can follow me anywhere.”

He absolutely lights up at her promise, face breaking into a wide grin as he does a little jig like he just can’t contain his joy.

It’s cute.

She ignores it.

---

“I don’t wanna argue with your plan or nothin,” Sharky says, tone conversational and voice loud over the roar of his flamethrower, “but do you think this is like… lightin’ up a giant joint?”

Mattie laughs behind the bandana she has tied over her face. “I wouldn’t be upset about it if it wasn’t a hallucinogen,” she says. “It’s one thing to be high and another to think you can fly when you’re on the edge of a cliff.”

Sharky glances at her over his shoulder, eyeing her up and down. “You’re kind of unusual, for the fuzz.”

She shrugs, glances away before he does, catching movement out of the corner of her eye that’s probably just Boomer or Hurk. “These are unusual times, dude.” The movement isn’t either of her other companions, so she wanders a little closer while Sharky continues burning the plants.

“Be careful!” She can barely hear his voice now, but it doesn’t occur to her to turn back to him, back to safety. “You can’t trust your senses out here!”

There are lights flashing in her vision, and she pauses to rub at her eyes with her knuckles. The lights are still there when she opens them again, her chest tight, and she pulls her bandana down so she can breathe freely.

It’s a mistake.

The bliss hits her full force, knocking her off balance, the vertigo from the marina back as Faith steps in front of her.

“Welcome to the bliss.”

Faith’s hands are on her shoulders, slipping down her arms to her hands, then she’s slipping away, and Mattie is following her without question, without even trying to grab a weapon , just… blindly following this woman through bliss pollen so thick it might as well be fog.

Faith stays just a step away the whole time, no matter how fast Mattie moves or how she lunges, giggling and twirling and speaking about who she really is in a sing-song voice.

Mattie barely even notices she’s on top of Joseph’s statue because Burke is there too, and when she tries to tackle him, he just… steps off the statue as Faith urges Mattie to do the same.

And, still surrounded by the bliss… she does.

---

“Oh, she’s waking up. Come on, Dep, you okay, man?”

She opens her eyes slowly, forcing herself to move even though every fiber of her being is screaming for her to keep her eyes closed and surrender to the white black white she’s gotten used to, that she’s started to miss just plowing through Hope County like it’s her own personal sandbox to destroy however she wants.

“I knew we shouldn’t have stuck around after the bliss started burning,” Sharky says, his voice coming from her other side. She can’t see either man, just the blue sky above her. There’s a single cloud that’s almost a perfect circle. “And you know I love fire, man, it’s just the best.”

She squeezes her eyes closed again, tight enough that she can see white lights that don’t have anything to do with bliss, then she opens them and sits up. She’s wobbly, but two sets of hands are there to help her, overlapping chatter from the two men drowning out her spiraling thoughts.

One of them hands her a water bottle and she drinks from it, unconcerned with the dampness from the grass cooling on her shirt and sinking deeper into her worn jeans. The water is warm and unpleasant, but she forces herself to swallow three mouthfuls before passing it back.

“Mayor’s on the radio,” Hurk says, talking a little louder to cut Sharky off. “Says they got supplies over in the jail, maybe they can help. Here, cuz, where’s the radio?”

Sharky produces the little hand-held with a flair, and Mattie wonders if they took it to call for help but doesn’t have time to ask because it’s switched on and she can hear Minkler’s voice coming through all tinny. “ Anyone looking for refuge, come to the Hope County Jail. We have beds and food here. ”

The radio goes silent and Hurk clicks it off. Mattie stares off in the direction she thinks the jail is instead of looking at either of the guys, and then she takes a deep breath. She doesn’t really want to go back to the jail, doesn’t want to see what happened to it once Joseph’s people took over, doesn’t want to face anyone she might know.

“It would be nice to have some real food,” she says, voice hoarse and throat raw. “Like, some vegetables.”

Both the boys are nodding, but Sharky’s the one who opens his mouth first. “I am not going to lie to you,” he says. “I have not pooped in six days.”

Mattie’s attention snaps from the crest of the hill to Hurk’s eyes, then they’re both turning to look at Sharky, whose face is a little screwed up like he’s not totally sure he actually said that out loud , and then...

They’re all laughing, the tension broken, worry she hadn’t realized was on their faces melting away. She starts to stand and they both haul themselves to their feet and pull her up with them, propping her up between them, and she lets them because it’s been weeks since she felt the warmth of another human’s touch.

She lets Hurk drive, lets Sharky sit up front next to him, stretches herself across the back seat with Boomer on the floor, listens to them chatting about how weird it is that Hurk and his dad have the same name, smiles at the absurdity of it all, then frowns when guilt at feeling happy when her friends are being tortured sneaks in.

It takes a few minutes to get to the jail, driving slowly down the mountain and along switchbacks that Hurk is taking much more carefully than she really thought he would, and she’s able to stare at the trees passing upside down over her head.

“Oh, shit, man.” The car comes to an abrupt stop and Mattie almost slides off the seat and onto Boomer. “Looks like peggies got the jail.”

Mattie’s stomach clenches; a cold sweat stands out on her skin. She sits up, leaning forward with her hands on the front seats. Sharky looks over at her, but she just stares through the windshield, squinting to see the details. There are peggies absolutely swarming in the front parking lot, up the hill from where Hurk pulled the car to a stop.

“Shit.” Mattie digs her fingernails into the front seats, letting the little pricks of pain ground her for the half-second she needs to pull her thoughts away from fresh food and back to fighting. The peggies are overwhelming the jail; they need to help. “Jesus Christ, fucking -- okay. Hurk, do not blow up the jail, there are civilians in there. Find something off to the side, make a distraction. I’ll come in from the other side.”

“What do you want me to do, Dep?” Sharky asks, still too loud but serious now. His fingers are drumming on the door handle, ready to go.

She bites her lower lip, accidentally pulls a piece of dead skin off. “Fuck shit up.”

He hops out of the car and cheers. Hurk follows suit, and she jumps out with Boomer more quietly, double checking her AR-C before she follows them up the hill.

The place is a disaster. There are burnt-out cars in the parking lot, enough smoke floating through the air to make her eyes water, peggies screaming and attacking the outside walls. There are people she doesn’t recognize up on top, behind the razor wire, and she hopes they see her red flannel, Hurk’s stars-and-stripes, or Sharky’s green hoodie and realize they’re not peggies, hopes the smoke and chaos won’t be their downfall.

She doesn’t want to have to do this again, too.

Two peggies fall under her spray of bullets as something explodes off to the left side of the jail. As she’d hoped, the peggies scramble around, not sure who’s attacking them, and it makes it easy for her to sneak around and snap the neck of a third man.

When her radio crackles to life, she almost doesn’t hear it. “ Hey is that you, Rook? ” Earl. Earl. It’s Earl. He’s alive. He’s here? She blinks hard to clear her eyes of tears that suddenly have nothing to do with the smoke and squats behind a car that smells of burned rubber, pulling her radio to her face to hear the rest of his message: “ Ah, Christ, help us out here. ”

She starts to press the talk button but a woman spots her, runs over with a shovel raised, and Mattie has enough time to wonder who shows up to a prison siege with only a shovel as a weapon before she has her pistol up and puts a bullet between the woman’s eyes.

When the last parking lot peggie falls, there are a few seconds where the only sounds are the roaring of flames, and then one of the doors in the wall opens. She walks through, doesn’t look back to see if Hurk or Sharky are following her, just steps into the courtyard and waits.

“Holy shit.” She snaps around to see Earl weaving his way through the rubble, his hat on his head and a smile on his face. He looks good, he looks healthy, and he’s trying to talk to her but she’s throwing her arms around his neck and bursting into tears before he has a chance to get out a full sentence.

He grunts and staggers back a step, but his arms still wrap around her waist and he squeezes her almost as tightly as she’s squeezing him. He rubs one hand up and down her back, soothing, shushing her when it only makes her cry harder.

She doesn’t care that she’s standing in the middle of the courtyard where everyone can see her. She doesn’t care that she’s getting tears and snot all over the shoulder of her boss’ uniform. All she cares about is that he’s alive, and he’s healthy, and he’s not an angel or trapped in a bunker, and she’s so overwhelmed with relief that she doesn’t know how to handle herself anymore.

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” He cups the back of her head like he might a child’s, comforting, and she draws in a shaky breath in an effort to just stop fucking crying. “We’re okay.”

She squeezes him even tighter for half a second then forces herself to step back. It feels like she has to unclench each of her fingers individually, has to scrape the toes of her stolen boots over the crumbling asphalt before she can give him the space she’s supposed to. She wipes at her eyes with the backs of her hands, wipes at her running nose and makes an ungodly noise when she intends to make a dainty sniffle.

“Sorry.”

“You’re alright,” he says, again, this time clapping her on the shoulder like he used to sometimes. “You really saved our bacon. The peggies’ve been throwing themselves at these walls for days. They just won’t let up.” He looks at the injured stretched out on the ground, then back to meet her eyes, a grim look on his face. “We really kicked open the hornets’ nest.”

Yeah. Yeah. They weren’t ready to arrest Joseph, should have waited longer or should have done it months earlier, before John had bought up so much of the county, before Jacob started kidnapping the locals, before Faith perfected her bliss formula, before everything went to shit.

Their moment of silence is interrupted by a man yelling a warning from the high walls, then being pushed back by a grenade. He falls in front of Mattie, his body hitting the asphalt with a sickening thunk. Blood pools under his head and his eyes stare, unseeing, up at the blue sky.

Earl jumps into action before she does, numbed as she is by everything. He checks the man’s pulse, yells for a medic, and part of her brain that she’d tried to bury wants her to respond. I’m a medic. I know that man’s gone.

He snaps her out of it. “I need you up on that wall, Rook,” he says, and he looks sorry to say it, but his silent regret doesn’t make the need less dire, doesn’t mean not fighting back won’t lead to all of them being tortured at the hands of Faith or her brothers.

So… she does it. She does what he asks her to, does what she needs to do to protect the people in the jail. Minkler fights by her side for as long as he can, but he’s a politician, not a soldier, and the second time he trips over his own feet, she shoves him in the shoulder and tells him to get the fuck inside.

Sharky and Hurk fight with her too, performing better than she thought they would when she first saw them. Hurk, in particular, is able to keep his mouth shut and grenades sailing through the air with remarkable precision, so much so that she starts to think there’s some truth to the wild stories he’s been spinning in their down time. Sharky swaps his flamethrower out for a more reasonable AK-47, and she smiles when she sees it but doesn’t bother to reflect on why she thinks that weapon is reasonable, just keeps fighting.

It’s all she can do.

Just keep fighting.

---

“So are you fucking the sheriff, or…?” Sharky lets the tail end of his question trail off, like he hadn’t already asked the most important part, the part that has her wrinkling her nose in distaste before she starts laughing. He blinks at her, lips pulling up in a grin when she starts to laugh, and pulls his hat off to run his hand through his hair. It sticks up when he’s done, dirty, greasy from hours of sweating under the brim, and she’s happy the jail still has working showers.

“No,” she says. “I’m not. I’ve never even thought -- why would you ask that?” She sits on the edge of the cot she’s been assigned even though there’s still dirt on the seat of her jeans, starts untying her boots as she listens to Sharky take a sharp breath before launching into what she assumes is going to be quite the speech.

“It’s just, you were pretty happy to see him, I guess.” He pauses and sighs. “I’ve never seen anybody cry that hard into a hug.”

Mattie sits up and scratches the tip of her nose. She can feel her cheeks heating up a bit as he stares at her, waiting. “The Seeds have all my other friends. I thought they had him too.” She shrugs and fiddles with the tail of her shirt, rubbing the soft cotton between her fingers. Sharky’s looking at her with something a little too understanding on his face, so she looks down into her lap and chews at the dead skin on her lip.

“Hurky and me, we’ll help you get your friends back,” he says, squeezing the bill of his hat between his hands. She watches the motion, the nervousness of it, then meets his gaze just before he says, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

The earnestness on his face, of his offer, makes her smile. It eases the tight ball in her chest, and she takes what feels like the first full breath of the day. “I really appreciate it, Sharky.”

He shrugs, dismissing her thanks. “Once you get the other deputies back, you still won’t arrest me, right? For all the fire, and the murdering, and all?” He pitches his voice lower, but he’s still too loud. It’s like the man never learned how to whisper.

She stands and knocks his shoulder with her fist. “If anyone’s getting in trouble for what we’ve been doing out there, it’s me. You’re fine. I promise we won’t arrest you.”

“Okay, good,” Sharky says, voice brightening again. “You gonna shower now?”

“Mhm. Be right back.” She knocks him in the shoulder again for good measure.

He throws his hat at her back as she walks away.

---

She doesn’t remember dying this time. She knows what it feels like -- getting shot, falling too far, having her neck snapped, drowning, being run over by a car, or being struck in the face with the butt of some peggie’s rifle -- but she doesn’t know which of those things put her in the black white black this time.

She doesn’t remember, but she’s trapped here, searching through a place she can’t see for an exit she’s not sure exists.

Is this the final time? Has she used up her thirty lives and is now doomed to run through this place for the rest of eternity? Was she supposed to do something different, behave better, make choices for good and she ran out of chances and this is what hell is?

She grew up expecting a lake of fire, not this… nothingness.

She can’t stop the sobs, can’t stop herself from screaming for help even though it's useless.

She screams and screams and screams and

She wakes up with a start, her limbs jerking like she suddenly fell, and she tries to sit up but there’s a hand in hers and another wiping tears from her face. It doesn’t feel like a threat, so she relaxes and forces her eyes to look at something other than the ceiling.

For half a second, she’s certain the gentle touches belong to Joey, like she’s fallen asleep during a movie night and Joey’s absently stroking her hair. A half-second after that, she’s certain the gentle touches belong to Staci, because the hands are bigger than Joey’s, and he never complained when she flopped on him like a cat needing attention.

“There you are, shorty.” Sharky’s voice reminds her where she is and who she’s with, and she draws in a wet, shaky breath as the reality of everything crashes full-force into her. His fingers tighten around hers, and she curls her body around that point of contact. “You been crying in your sleep and didn’t wanna wake up, but you calmed down as long as I was holding your hand.”

She wipes her face on the back of her sleeve. “Sorry,” she says, voice thick and wet. “Did I wake you up?”

He brushes her hair away from her face. “Nah, I was still awake. Don’t worry about it.”

It doesn’t seem right that this large, boisterous man should be the one comforting her in the middle of the night, but she can’t help the impulse that tells her to nuzzle into his hand. She turns into it, blinking up at him in the dim light of what used to be the department’s bullpen, and he grins back down at her.

He’s sitting on the floor at the edge of her cot, long legs stretched out on the dirty tile floor, still in his jeans but now without his boots or hoodie. He’s got a ratty wifebeater tank on instead, stretched out at the neckline, and she can see faded swirls of ink on one of his biceps. She huffs out a laugh, and he squeezes her fingers in reply.

“How long’ve you been sitting there?”

She doesn’t mention their entwined fingers. He doesn’t seem keen to bring it up either.

“Uhh, dunno, like thirty minutes?” He shrugs, still playing with her hair. “You wouldn’t wake up.”

“I took like… four benadryl after my shower.” She starts to roll onto her back to stretch, and he releases her, moving back a little like he’s going to get on his bed. “I was dreaming that, uhm.” How best to describe it? He won’t believe her. “I was just trapped and no one could hear me.”

He nods again. “Don’t like small spaces?”

She actually does laugh this time, a sharp noise that surprises them both. “You could say that, yeah.” She considers telling him more, then remembers something he said earlier. “Wait, you’re still awake? Not sleeping?”

“Can’t always make my brain shut off,” he says. “Specially these days.”

She turns back onto her side and props herself up on one elbow, considering, weighing the pros and cons and the chances he’ll take what she wants to say the wrong way… then she decides a guy who’s willing to sit on the cold, hard floor holding her hand for half an hour to make her feel better is exactly the kind of guy she can trust.

“Come lie down with me.”

He blinks at her, cocks his head to the side like a puppy, like he’s not sure he heard her right.

“I always sleep better when there’s someone with me. Maybe you will too.” When he doesn’t respond right away, she adds: “Humans need touch. It’s good for you. Just hop up here and go to sleep.”

He’s surprisingly silent, but he moves from his cot to hers, sits on the side to test the waters, then stretches out next to her when she doesn’t do anything to make him think her offer is a joke. She makes room for him, waits for his head to hit the pillow before she cuddles against his side, curling into his warmth with a self-satisfied sigh.

“See? It’s nice.”

It helps her forget the cold emptiness of the black white black in her dream, reminds her that this is real and she’s real and the people she’s fighting for are real too.

He jumps a little when he hears her voice, then he rolls onto his side, toward her. She gives him room to settle, then moves back in, head tucked under his chin.

“All good?”

He takes in a deep breath, lets it out in a slow exhale before he replies. “Yeah. You’re right.” His arm loops over her waist, just resting, then pulls her a little closer. “All good.”

---

Sharky doesn’t say anything about her nightmare or her offer-slash-demand for three a.m. cuddles, just slips out of her bed without waking her up from the second half of her nine-hour benadryl nap, leaving behind a cold spot and a pillow that smells faintly of gasoline. She was right though, sleeping with another body next to her soothed her until she was able to float dreamlessly through the rest of the night.

She can only hope he feels the same.

Breakfast is instant coffee and a crumbly granola bar eaten at Earl’s side as he and the mayor take turns talking about events around the Henbane: bliss in the water, bliss plants growing unchecked, angels wandering along the roads, and Burke still with Faith.

“I can’t leave Joey and Staci to go after Burke.” She feels guilty even as she says it, knows the importance of the Marshal, but… “I can’t. You haven’t seen what I have.”

Minkler looks shocked, but Earl is nodding before she’s even finished her sentence.

“You do what you need to do, Rook,” he says. “We’re counting on you.”

She nods at him even though that makes her angry -- why is everyone counting on her? Why is this her responsibility? She’s not the only one in Hope County who’s physically capable of fighting back against the Seeds; she’s not even the most qualified.

She’s just the one person who managed to completely escape the Seeds on that first night.

“Hey.” His voice, pitched low, draws her out of that cloud of anger, and she blinks up at him as he says, “Stay safe out there, okay?”

The fight bleeds out of her as she sighs. “You too.”

Sharky and Hurk are already dressed and kitted up, standing by the jail gates and arguing good-naturedly about something. She catches just the tail end of the discussion, right when Hurk raises his voice and throws his arms out to the side: “--show my chimps, that’s right, they’re chimps, some respect! And don’t go slanderin’ their names!”

Sharky catches her eye and her confused expression and starts laughing even harder, tipping his head back and letting the sound echo around the courtyard. It’s catching, and she finds herself laughing before she has time to remember why she’d been frowning in the first place.

“You boys ready to go?” She stops a few paces away from them, tucks her hands into her pockets while she waits, and Hurk turns around to look back at her.

“I think I’m gonna head back up to the marina,” Hurk says, “maybe see if I can’t find Mama’s helicopter. You’n’Sharky’ll be okay without me?” He looks nervous like he’s afraid she’s going to say no, so she makes sure she keeps smiling at him even though the idea of him flying a helicopter makes her super fucking nervous.

“We’ll be okay, Hurk. You do what you need to do.” It’s the same thing Earl said to her, and she sighs a little even as her smile stays.

His face lights up. “Okay! Call me when you come back around, and I’ll come help you, okay?” He’s grabbing her up in a bear hug before she has time to nod, and she can’t do anything but chuckle as he picks her up off her feet and sets her back down. “Don’t get into too much trouble without me.”

“You too,” she says, breathless, amused, and she waits quietly as Sharky gets a similarly enthusiastic goodbye.

“Have you seen Boomer this morning?”

Sharky answers by pointing; Boomer’s on his back in a patch of sun, a woman Mattie doesn’t recognize kneeling beside him to scratch at his belly. Boomer blinks his eyes open when his name is called, then rolls to his feet like he’s just remembered he’s late for work. He gives the woman a wet kiss, which makes her laugh, and then runs over and jumps up onto Mattie with his front paws.

“There’s my good boy,” she coos, and ignores Sharky’s vague noise of disgust when she accepts a slobbery Boomer-kiss of her own.

When Boomer calms down enough to sit by her feet, she puts her hands on her hips and looks up at Sharky. “Ready to fuck up John’s day?”

His face lights up. “Hell yeah, chica. Lead the way.”

#sharky boshaw #sharky x deputy #hurk drubman jr #far cry 5 #female deputy #oc: mattie covington #my writing

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scarlettkat86 · 5 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Far Cry 5 Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sharky Boshaw/ Female Deputy | Judge Characters: Sharky Boshaw, Original Female Character(s), Female Deputy | Judge (Far Cry) Additional Tags: OTP Feels, Angst and Feels, I'm Bad At Tagging, I Don't Even Know, Prompt Fic, Crying, Emotions, Comfort, Forehead Kisses, Sappy Ending Summary:

Prompt request from a friend for my OTP Sharky Boshaw and deputy oc Lizbeth.

She drops her head to his shoulder, her body shaking. Her gut-wrenching sobs tear through his chest, shattering his brief joy of finding her. His vision became blurry from his own unshed tears.

#sharky boshaw #my oc lizbeth atsila searles #sharky boshaw x female deputy #fc5 #fc5 oc #not sure i like it #but whatever its done

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smolmccartney · 6 years

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Today is Sharky's Birthday.

No really. Look on his wanted poster. October 2, 1980!

I'm having some good beef jerky in my husband's honor. It's his favorite food I believe.

Also having nice fluffy thoughts of my dep seeing his birthday on the wanted poster, remembering it, and throwing a little surprise party (with cake and presents and maybe even a barbecue) and even getting Addie and Hurk Jr. involved. (And perhaps some hot birthday sex after?) 💖💖💖🍰🎂

#far cry 5 #sharky boshaw #happy birthday sharky #happy birthday #i love him so much #im sorry i had to #why am i like this #i'm in love #the boy deserves everything good #adelaide drubman #hurk drubman jr #fc5 headcanons #sharky x female deputy #dollie collins #deputy dahlia collins #my oc #sharky boshaw x oc #this turned into an rp #sorry not sorry

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aghostfromtheages · 5 years

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OC Ask Meme

I was tagged by @starsandskies thank you so much for thinking of me and my dumb Dep <3

I’ll tag @ladyinthebluebox because I would love to see this done for some of your dragon age OCs! If you get a chance C:

Basics:

Name: Evelynn (Evie) Thorne

Gender: Female.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Pronouns: She/Her.

Other:

Family: Parents, Lisa, and Ray Thorne, younger sister Sophie.

Birthplace: Calgary, Alberta.

Job(s): Hope County Deputy Sheriff.

Phobias: Losing the people she loves, suffocation/drowning

Guilty Pleasures: Fast food, afternoon naps, sneaking over to see Cheeseburger when she should be on patrol, setting her alarm early to go jogging and then turning it off

Hobbies: Hiking, reading, drinking (that's a hobby, right?), petting other people’s dogs

Morals:

Alignment: Chaotic good

Sins: Pride, lust, sloth

Virtues: Patience, charity, kindness

This or That:

introvert / extrovert / ambivert

organized / disorganized

close-minded / open-minded

calm / anxious / restless

disagreeable / agreeable / inbetween

patient / impatient

outspoken / reserved

leader / follower / flexible

empathetic / unempathetic

optimistic / pessimistic / realistic

traditional / modern / inbetween

hard-working / lazy

Relationships:

OTP: Jess Black x Evie (She likes a girl who looks like she kills men with her bare hands)

Acceptable Ships: Jacob Seed x Evie, John Seed x Evie, Hudson x Evie

OT3: Jacob x Evie x Jess (In whichever reality that could actually work)

BroTP: Sharky Boshaw, Cheeseburger/ Boomer

NOTP: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#far cry 5 #far cry deputy #evie thorne #far cry oc #tag game

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snake-in-the-garden · 3 years

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Chapter 2 is up!!!

Chapter 2: First Impressions

Summary: In which Sharky attempts to be a gentleman and Ramona almost gets into a bar fight.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Ramona Belmont

Rating: M (for now)

Word count: 1.5k (wow)

Warnings: cursing, poor attempts at entertaining character protrayals, false racism accusations

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I couldn't quite figure out how this chapter would end.

Read it here or on Ao3

"So what brings you to Hope County?", Sharky inquired while half-watching the road while Ramona stared straight ahead. It was the one thing she dreaded the most; small talk. Small talk wasn't one of her strong suits; especially with someone she just met. Though her nerves didn't bundle as much as they did when making polite conversation at the dinner parties her parents used to host. Ramona took a slight glance at Sharky only to catch him quickly turn his head back to the road. Ramona quirked up a thin eyebrow at the action.

"Well...I'm moving here," Ramona responded awkwardly. "My uncle left a house here for me in his will. Don't know how long I'll be here for."

Sharky hummed and shifted in his seat. "Is that all?"

"Should there be more?" Slowly gaining her confidence back, as her skin started to prickle being interrogated like this. "I would assume that's a good enough reason. Or am I wrong?"

"Sorry. It's just that some very out of town folks moved here awhile back and started causing trouble. Buyin' up shit for some 'Project'," Sharky huffed half to himself. "So those who were already living here are a little on edge about outsiders."

Ramona had only been here for about thirty minutes and people are already suspicious of her. And it wasn't even her fault. "So why'd you pull over to help me then?" It was Ramona's turn to ask questions. "Since I'm an 'outsider' and all." Sharky frantically switched his eyes between his passenger and the road. "I-i didn't mean it like that! I was warnin' you about the things goin' around here", Sharky rushed out feeling the woman's dark, brown, calculating eyes on him. "Plus I thought your ass looked nice so I just figured 'why not help this hot, mystery woman stranded on the side of the road? Might get lucky'." Of course. Ramona's suspicions about Sharky were right considering she's felt his eyes on her backside at least three times already. At least this guy was honest about what he hoped for and hasn't tried getting physical with her. But did Sharky have to be so blatant about it?

"Let's get one thing straight; I'm not that type of woman," Ramona rebuked, leaning in a bit. "So sorry to disappoint you." It hasn't been the first time Ramona had to lay down the law with some weird guy hitting on her. Which resulted in getting called a "bitch" by an entitled douche. So hopefully this won't end with her being stranded on the side of the road or worse. Women who look like her aren't usually a priority when they turn up missing.

But to Ramona's surprise, all that came out of Sharky was a short, somewhat hoarse laugh.

"Alright, alright I get ya. No need to apologize. You're a classy lady and I gotta respect that," he conceded willfully. "'Specially since my ass woulda got zapped by that piece in your purse if I got too friendly."

Ramona glanced down at the taser that she thought was hidden away better in her purse at her feet. "Can't be too careful."

"That's true," Sharky started, "but if you're gonna be livin' here; you're gonna hafta let your hair down...literally and figuratively."

As Ramona was about to scoff to herself at his statement, Sharky reached over to her claw clip. "What are you--!" Her questioning protest was cut off when Sharky released the clip and Ramona's soft, recently silk-pressed, raven hair fell around her face and neck. Though more astonished than annoyed, Ramona shook and raked her fingers through her hair in order to get it out of her face. "Fuck...", she heard Sharky breathe next to her. At that, Ramona paused and turned to see the man taking in the view before him. And as strange as it was, she gazed back. Usually the feeling of eyes being on her made Ramona's skin burn, but this time, she didn't mind it.

The pair's engagement was interrupted by the sound of a loud car horn and the force of Sharky's truck being jerked back onto their side of the road. They correctly snapped back into their seats looking straight ahead all tense and awkward. Ramona saw in the side mirror that it was another white truck like the one before.

Sharky huffed out a shaky laugh to ease himself. "We should um...be at The Spread Eagle soon, 'Mona."

Ramona nodded her head. "Right." A moment passes. "I'm sorry The Spread what?"

~~~

To Ramona's relief, The Spread Eagle was just a normal bar, despite its crude name and sign. The establishment was also accompanied by a church, general store, and a few other buildings in the smalltown of what Sharky called, Fall's End. Ramona had never physically been in a real smalltown. She's only come across them in books whenever a character claims boredom or having to hear John Mellencamp sing about them for the hundredth time on the radio back home. Even though a change of scenery would be good for her, Ramona had to remember that smalltowns often come with small minds. Especially when it comes to people outside of their close knit community.

"After you, Miss," Sharky offered, playfully gesturing towards the bar's entrance.

"Why thank you," Ramona acknowledged, giving him a soft smile.

As soon as she stepped foot into the building, all eyes; four sets of them, were on Ramona. The eyes of paterons who didn't know what to make of the unknown woman who entered. As Ramona began to turn her head to Sharky to question why he brought her here; someone, angrily, beats her to it.

"Goddamnit Sharky!", a blonde woman from behind the bar counter shouted. "I swear to Christ you only think with your dick!" The patrons didn't seem bothered by this woman yelling at someone in a place of business as they kept on eating and nursing their drinks. Sharky quickly got in front of Ramona with his hands up as if to protect himself from the woman's stinging, blue glare. "Now hold on Mary May, y'know that ain't true. Just let me explain." By Sharky's nervous placating combined with the aforementioned patrons utter indifference to the commotion; Ramona theorized that these two had conflicts with each other before. Hopefully it won't involve her. "Hah! Would love to hear why the hell you thought that bringin' one of them into my bar was a good idea," Mary May mocked harshly. 'Them' was emphasized venomously as she pointed her blue daggers at Ramona.

Oh? So we're gonna be doing this now. Ramona figured someone was going to have an issue with her being...different. But she didn't think it'd happen like 45 minutes into arriving here.

"Excuse me? I didn't see a sign anywhere," Ramona confronted, now getting in front of Sharky. Who's not quite sure what's happening at the moment and if he should get involved or not.

"Don't need any sign when it's common knowledge around here to not let y'all in my bar," Mary May stated and directed her attention to Sharky. "Or at least I thought it was."

"I broke down on the side of the road coming up here and he stopped to help me," Ramona explained, not caring about how loud she was getting, bringing attention to herself. "But it's not like you'd know anything about being hospitable to certain people."

"I think y'all are talkin' about two different--", Sharky tried to put in.

"Shut it!" Mary May spit, cutting him off. "I have absolutely no obligation serving no peggie bitch!"

"Why you racist ass--!," Ramona stopped her oncoming tiraid to realize that she didn't recognize the word Mary May just used. "Wait, what'd you just call me? Peggie?"

Mary May looked taken aback as all the hostility in her body suddenly felt foriegn to her. "Peggie? Y'know Eden's Gate? The cult you're with." Ramona just shook her head denying what was being told to her, trying to make sense of it all. Sharky, feeling it was now safe, came from behind his guest and got in between the two women. "Like I was tryin' to tell you," Sharky started, "'Mona here ain't a damn peggie. She's just movin' onto property that was left to her. Had no idea what's been goin' on here." Mary May flushed light pink at the sheer embarrassment she was experiencing. "Yeah I know that now!," she retorted. "Considerin' how hard you fought me, I thought it was strange 'cause I ain't seen a peggie do that." Mary May waved her hand towards one of the bar stools, offering the offended party a seat. "Oh, thank you," Ramona replied, setting herself down on the uncomfortable stool. Sharky sat next to her, obviously pleased that the tension has gone down. "Um, before we acknowledge the accusation I made against you; can someone please tell me what a 'peggie' or what 'Eden's Gate' is?" Before either of them could answer, the doors burst open, forcing everyone's attention towards the source. A bitter smile creeped up on Mary May's lips. "You're 'bout to find out."

#far cry 5 #fc5 #oc: ramona belmont #sharky boshaw #mary may fairgrave #fic: a stranger's sacrifice #chapter 2 #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry 5 fanfic #fc5 fanfiction #fc5 fanfic #fanfiction #x: we've touched on sorrowful days #sharky boshaw x oc #sharky boshaw x female oc #farcry 5 #serpent fics #friends to lovers

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